Decompressing from the first three days of rehearsals for "Rigoletto" at Florida Grand (that's Caruso in the opera at the right), and watching Sasha Cohen botch her chances for gold at the Olympic Women's Figure Skating competition in Torino. I could never do what they do. I think about my work and how stressed I get, and then I think about how stressed out they must be before each of these competitions. To go out there on the ice for four straight minutes and try to be beautifully artistic as well as incredibly athletic, landing jump after jump on a thin blade of medal and doing it well enough to garner more points than the other twenty competitors.
I did compete for a while. I did the dance competition circuit in junior high and high school. I remember how hard the nerves used to hit me. It was exhilirating and wounding all at the same time. As soon as you fell out of a pirouette or found that you weren't in sync with the other dancers, your heart sank into your heels but you had to continue and emote just as beautifully to pull the best score you could muster. All you could hope for after a mediocre performance is that everyone after you would screw up more. Even when you were at the top of the game, you could never think for a moment that you had a medal in the bag. That kind of lazy thinking was a sure fire way to lose. Competing well is being able to walk a fine line between being confident and being realistic. I feel bad for Sasha Cohen, being labeled as a skater who can never make it through both programs without screwing up. Perhaps for her it is a self-fulfilled prophecy. She may try not to believe what people say about her but it's so easy to let that self-doubt sneak through. She was skating with a groin injury too. Fighting through that kind of pain and stiffness is a massive undertaking, no matter what you're doing.
So...back into the reality of muggy, mold-filled Miami. These three days have been the easiest start of a rehearsal process I've had here yet. I think it's because everyone knows exactly what they're doing. Mark Lamos is directing, and has such a steady hand in rehearsals. He is very measured and also quite pleasant. I love watching him work with singers. He responds well to singers who come in with knowledge and insight into their character. I think it's so important to understand who you're playing and what you're saying. Not just what the words mean, but what's going on in between the lines.
We have very intelligent singers I think. Bruno Caproni, our Rigoletto, has played the role many times, and it shows. He enters each scene with such a command of both his role and the connection of the scene as a whole to the rest of the show. Our Gilda is Leah Partridge, who is doing double time singing in "Dido" and "The Padlock" at my opera alma mater, Chicago Opera Theater, this week. Audrey Babcock and a rather monolithic (in stance only) Morris Robinson are a formidable Maddalena and Sparfucile, and Stefano Secco is our Duke. He's the only one I haven't met, as he is coming in on Saturday night. This is why we get a wonderful two days off this weekend. Missing Gilda and the Duke for two days puts a cramp in our staging style. With such an easy rehearsal atmosphere, we blasted through everything we could do without them, and will start back fresh on Sunday with our first time with the Duke and our first stab with the chorus.
Remounting an opera, when done efficiently, can be accomplished in a very short amount of time. Mark leaves to mount "Carmen" in San Diego in 7 days, and by that time we should have the whole opera up and running. What takes the time is fine tuning: finding those moments of juicy acting and response that take the audience to another (and performers) to another level. The great thing about having performers seasoned in their roles, is that they already understand the emotional through-line and have had many runs of the opera to learn and fully understand their character. The ultimate joy of these processes is when a bunch of people who truly understand what's happening in a show come together and, through their collective knowledge, find unbelievable juicy tidbits to bring out in this, a new manifestation of the opera.
It's this reason that I love, love, love opera (and live performance in general). The other part I love, love, love is the backstage mayhem, of which there will be a substantial amount in this production. That's a post in and of itself.
Right now, it's Irina Slutskaya's turn on the ice and time for me to power down for the evening. (a little too sinus-y to burn the midnight oil this week it seems).
1 comment:
It is interesting to read your views on competition. Here I am in Missouri and you in Florida reliving the the same moments from different perspectives. You were the performing dancer and I was the stage mom and often the costumer. You were a very good competitor. We would both be stressed and, unfortunatelly, we would often have a tiff near time to go on stage. That is something I have never forgiven myself for. I loved to watch you perform. Your stage presence is incredible. I always loved to hear the audience whispers about how wonderful my daughter danced or acted. You lite up the stage and there is a noticible dimming as you leave the stage. Keturah your drive to perfection was hard on your competitors.
I, too watched the skaters last nite reliving many, many competitions. I was always and am always proud to say, "That is my daughter."
I once watched you compete on a sprained ankle and collapse as you exited the stage...I know you know that competion drive that winners must have.
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